80th Hunger Games REWRITTEN
by waytobefabulous
Summary: this is my old story, 80th Hunger Games, rewritten. Meet Ebony Storm, District 5, Age 13, and then Evan Armstorng, District 11, Age 14. Romance! please read and review. thanks!


Hunger Games: RENEWAL

Chapter One

My heart beat completely out of control. Pressing two fingers to my chest and feeling it pound; I just grew more and more worried by the second. Licking my already dry lips, I shifted uncomfortably, feeling slightly claustrophobic. Being enclosed in this tube-like structure awaiting death isn't my idea of a horribly great time. My arm still ached a bit from when I got injected with my tracker minutes before. Gritting my teeth, I mentally prepared myself for my flight out of the Cornucopia. Wait; scratch that, preparing myself for the last few weeks of my life. Not that I'm an optimist, which is far from the truth, but I only had about a two percent chance of living. Actually, if you want to be really specific, my chances of survival are one in twenty three.

It's much more complicated than that. Not only are a bunch of twelve to eighteen year olds going to die today, we have to fight each other to the death. I guess you could say we are gladiators, being forced into a huge (and I really mean huge) arena to kill. What are the rules of this Game? Basically, there's only one: stay alive. Oh, and also you can't eat your opponent's heart. Believe it or not, that's actually happened a few years ago, so the Capitol made a law against it. Otherwise, you can do what ever you want, as long as twenty three die and one person wins.

Now there are only a few questions left. How did twenty four of us get chosen to be in these Games? Lottery. The twenty four of us tributes each lived in twelve districts, in a country called Panem. Two tributes per district, each a boy and a girl. Every year, two kids were selected to be in these Games, actually called the Hunger Games. We were brought to the Capitol, which is the head of all twelve districts, to train and get ready for these Games. Not that we had a choice.

I'm from District 5. My district partner, who I can tell you now I absolutely dislike, sort of new each other back in our district. We went to the same school, but he's four years older than I am. I'm 13, by the way, if you hadn't caught that already. Ebony Storm is my name, killing is my game. Ha ha, NOT. I'm not a career. A career is someone who trains for years and years and actually _volunteers_ to be in the Games. I'm not that stupid. No matter how good you think you are, there may be someone who's better. So in a way you are just offering to get yourself killed, with a slight chance of winning.

I'm not a career, but I have had plenty of training since I was eight. My twin brother, Emmett (yes, we both have names that start with "e", I caught that), was trained by our father years before he and mom died in an accident. Which, apparently, we're not supposed to know about. Living with Old Aunt Bethany wasn't that much of a party either, so we ran away. Yes, when we were eight. We found this old, abandoned shack deep in the woods, so we fixed it up into a crude home, and been living there ever since. Anyway, as I was saying before, Emmett trained me with small weapons, which are now my specialty. Anything with archery, knives, spears, or maces is what I excel in. I know, that's really sick, me being amazing at maces, but it's true. If it's small, I can manage.

Really, maces aren't as bad as you think. I just swing the chain around my opponent's ankles and give a yank, and they come tumbling down. Easy advantage, right? Not always. I am really small, only 5'1. Barely 90 pounds, from lack of nutrition, I think? I can be easily tossed around and I can't exactly manage to hold swords and stuff. But, I can run. I can run farther and faster than anyone I know, even the upper class at school. It's my main form of defense, I guess. I can literally run for miles without stopping, and without breaking a pace.

Now before you start to think I'm perfect, which, by the way, I'm not, I do have many things I'm horrible at. Stunner, right? Ha ha. . . I have a mean temper. Emmett calls me bomb, just itching to explode. What a dear, darling brother I have, right? Anyway, I can't set traps very well and I'm useless at plants. For traps, I suppose I just don't have the patience to set them up right, wait for a small animal, and then kill it. That process takes entirely too long. Another thing you noticed: I'm very impatient. I'll even admit it.

Plants are confusing. Berries are confusing. How in the world am I supposed to figure out the difference between the poisonous and edible? They all look the same. Okay, maybe not to everyone, like Emmett. I need more exciting thing to do, with weapons. That's why I like hunting. I leave boring stuff, like gathering, trap setting, and fishing, to Emmett. Not that he minds. Actually he doesn't. He's told me a bunch of times that fishing and gathering and stuff is what he's good at, and what he likes doing. Sometimes my brother and I are so different.

Don't get me wrong. I love my brother. Actually, he's also my best friend as well as my hunting partner. We do absolutely everything together, from going to school to trading markets. Being a few minutes older, I usually let Emmett take charge and make the decisions, but that's only because I trust him so much. We're both natural born leaders; it's not hard to tell.

While I'd been lost in stupid thought, the gong sounded. Leaping to attention, I dashed out into the Cornucopia, instinct taking over instead of fear. I had to get something, and get out. I remember faintly Emmett telling me that in the Justice Building. I looked wildly around for something- anything that I could grab. With horror, I realized all the bags and backpacks around the edges of the Cornucopia were taken and I had to go _inside _of the Cornucopia itself to get supplies. I had to make a split second decision. Risk going inside the Cornucopia to get a backpack, which there were still plenty of, or just get out of here. I decided to try to get something. It wouldn't be smart to just leave, without getting anything. And hey, I'm going to die anyway, right?

Sprinting towards the Cornucopia, I couldn't help but noticing huge weapons that careers and other people had. Then I spotted it. It was about a medium size backpack that looked stuffed full. Only problem? It was way deep in the horn itself. I didn't know what I was thinking, but my body moved before my brain decided. I ran in, grabbed the bag, and ducked out. Because I was small, or so I guessed, I wasn't noticed and I got out of the horn without any trouble. Just as I thought I was home free, and getting into the woods, I was stopped cold in my tracks by none other than my district partner. Riot.

He was very, very scary.

This was the first thing that ran through my mind when I first saw him at the Reapings. He had floppy, black hair that covered one eye, pale white skin, and a lip ring. My mouth slightly dropped and I clutched the black bag tightly to my chest. _I'm not going down without a fight. _I thought, almost miserably to myself. With one fluid motion, Riot's hand shot out and he easily pushed me over on my back, momentarily knocking the wind out of me. I hated being small and light. A wicked grin crossed over the seventeen year old's face as he reached down to force my backpack away. But, just as his hand made contact with the bag, a knife shot through the air and grazed his arm. He gave a startled yelp (which sounded immensely un-like him), and pulled back. His arm was dripping in blood. I was too shocked to actually look where the knife came from. Riot's head turned in that direction and something like horror crossed over his face. Immediately he bolted away from me. Before I could scramble of the ground, the person who threw the knife at Riot ran up to me. He was _beautiful. _Gosh. I couldn't believe I'd actually thought that. I guess being in the Games made you a little crazy. . .

The boy, who now I remembered his name was Evan, looked at me for a second, grabbed my bag out of my hands, and ran. Fury filled me. The guy had just stolen my prize. Leaping up,

I ran after him. All that running I'd done back in my district instantly paid off. Evan got only about a hundred yards into the woods out of the Cornucopia before I took a giant leap, and tackled him to the ground. He rolled onto his back and stared at me in horror. There was a knife in his other hand. Serious bad news. Just then I remembered what Emmett had taught me in a situation like this. Grabbing both of his wrists, I pinned them down on either side of him. His face paled as I twisted his left wrist and grabbed the knife. This was the only way to get my backpack back. I _needed _it to survive. I pressed the sharp dagger onto his throat. "Give. Me. Back. The. Backpack." I hissed angrily, applying a tiny bit of pressure with the knife. Evan's right hand released the bag, fearful eyes never leaving mine. I blinked, realizing that they were the exact same color as mine. A deep, deep green.

Augh. What's with me? I had to stay focused. Otherwise, I'd die today. I kept the dagger pressed against his throat and grabbed the bag, slinging it over my shoulder. Then, I raised the knife, and quickly slashed it once across his cheek. Evan winced in pain. "That," I fiercely explained, "was for being stupid." I stood up, gave him one last glance, and flew deeper into the woods.

Now was the real task at hand, besides avoiding death. I had to keep moving, isolate myself as much as I could from other tributes, figure out the rest of the arena, check what supplies I had in the backpack, and find a spot or tree to sleep in once it was dark. Which way to go, though? Away from the Cornucopia would be best, anyone could figure that out. North? Everybody went north. I had to get _away_ from everyone.

Strategies. What was my strategy? I'd gone over this with Paula, my mentor. What did she say again? Oh yes. . . Since my main strength was small weapons, I could take people out fairly easy. Stay away from careers, no duh, and try to go for smaller, less suspecting tributes. I tried to think of them. Paula had me make sure to study all the tributes extremely carefully, but once I got into the arena I guess I kind of blanked. There was Lilly, District 8, but I seriously doubted I could kill a twelve year old. Didn't have the guts too. Then there was Iris, District 11, she was fifteen. I suddenly remembered that she was from Evan's district. Evan. Could I kill him if I wanted too? I didn't want to kill anybody at all. I wished I didn't have too, but I also knew that in order to live, somebody must die. And in order for _you_ to live, _you_ may just be the person to kill them.

I hate the Capitol. Did I mention that already? Then I remembered that I _had _to keep moving, keep going. Once I got far enough I'd look in my backpack to see what I'd gotten, but for now I had to go. I decided to head west, figuring that would probably be the best way to go. I started at a slow jog, knowing that I could keep that pace for a long period of time. The backpack thumped annoyingly against my back over and over, until finally I had to stop and fix it. Who cared anymore. I'd gone far enough. Looking around, I walked until I spotted a large tree with lots of knotholes. Perfect for climbing, if I _was_ a climber. Climbing was another one of my weaknesses. It totally figures. Well, it never seemed important back in District 5. What an idiot I am. Grabbing a conveniently low to the ground limb, I grunted as I hoisted myself up. The backpack was too heavy and it weighed me down.

After nearly ten minutes of unsuccessful climbing, I'd managed to get a whopping fifteen feet off the ground. I sat on a large branch that hopefully would hold my 91 pound body without breaking. I set the backpack down beside me in the fork of two branches and practically tore it open. I reached in and the first thing I pulled out was a mace.

Geez, today must be my lucky day. It's not every Hunger Games that one opens a bag and finds a deadly weapon. Certainly would be helpful. Next, under that, was a small, crude green blanket. Good enough, I supposed. Next was a canteen, which was full, (I must be getting _real_ lucky today. . .), and at the bottom were a book and a small bag of berries, and twine. I took the book and berries out. The book was on edible plants and berries, and just to be extra cautious I checked out the berries in the bag to make sure they were okay. You could never be sure about the stupid Gamemakers.

Turns out they were okay. Actually, they were much better than okay. I ate two of them, and the flavor burst into my mouth. Yum. I wasn't going to eat any more until absolutely necessary. I firmly told myself as I closed and replaced the bag. I knew how to get my own food. If only I had more weapons.

Along with the mace, I had Evan's (stolen) knife which would be very, very useful. Without a knife you were practically dead in the Games, because you needed them so badly for so many different things. Killing (I had come to hate that word), hunting, skinning, cutting, and other stuff. I was so glad for Emmett's training, I don't really know what I'd do if I didn't have him. I was still decently full from the huge breakfast I had this morning, which consisted of many verities of fruits, coffee, juice, bread, jams, and so much more.

Yes, I could still eat no matter how nervous I was. I like food to much. Anyway, if I didn't eat Paula would have probably shoved it down my throat anyway.

I had gained a few valuable pounds in the Capitol; ones that I knew for sure would be burned off in no time at all. Then I thought about sponsors. I wondered how many I had. Careers for sure had the most, because they were the ones who would most likely win, and if they got a good training score. I was surprised; I'd gotten a 10. Which was good; very good I assumed. At least Paula told me so. Hopefully I had quite a few, the more the better.

Once I'd finished rummaging through all of my supplies, I slid down as gracefully as I could manage down from the tree (remembering that all of Panem plus my brother was watching me), and replaced the backpack on my shoulders.

Suddenly I just remembered something. Funny, I hadn't heard any canons go off since the beginning of the games! But that was nearly impossible, having no deaths in the bloodbath. It just _never happened. _I thought back to nearly 45 minutes ago, or so it seemed, when the Games begun and I was in the Cornucopia. People _were_ fighting when I went in the horn to get supplies, but did I remember anyone getting killed? Just then, as if answering me, a canon blew. I sighed. "Just _one_ canon?" I mumbled under my breath. "I need more deaths than that if I'm going to win." This was pretty much stupid, because I didn't have a shot at winning. Only a few twelve, thirteen, and even fourteen year olds didn't win to often, unless they were really, _really_ good.

Come to think of it, most of the people who did win were either eighteen, career, or both. But I guess that was just because they (pardon my use of words here) went on a quote-on-quote killing spree. It was disgusting, but true. Careers often killed on sight, with little or no mercy ever.

Then I thought how unfair it really was that we were constantly getting tracked by those stupid things they injected into my upper left arm so they knew where I was at all times. If only we didn't have those. . . Suddenly I felt a flash of rebellion. What if I _did_ cut out the tracker? They'd defiantly torture me with punishments throughout the whole Games, but hey, I was going to die anyway, right? I began to grow excited with this thought. But there would be pain. I noted. Lots of pain. I thought for a few seconds. It'd be worth it. I knew it.

Taking out Evan's knife, or should I say _my_ knife now, I raised it to my arm and was just about to make the first mark when I thought of a few things. Once I get this thing out, how am I going to stop the bleeding? I didn't have bandages. I tore of a strip of cloth from the bottom of my jacket. Kneeling on the ground behind the fat tree, I took a deep breath and lowered the knife to my skin.

"Suicide?" Came a simple and _very _familiar voice behind me. I jumped nearly a foot into the hair, spinning around and ready to thrust the knife forward when I stopped. "Evan?" I said, confused. His face had stopped bleeding, but now there was an ugly wound from his ear almost to his jaw. For a second I almost did consider killing him right then, but almost as soon as that thought came, it vanished. I wasn't going to kill anybody just yet, not till necessary. "You alone?" I muttered. Evan nodded. "No duh." He crossed his arms. "What are you doing?"

I gave a short, sarcastic laugh. "Why would I tell you?" I challenged. Evan smirked. "If you're going to kill yourself, you'd be dead anyway so what's the point?" I stopped short, but quickly answered just as sharply, keeping up this game. "Who say's I'm killing myself?" Evan rolled his eyes. "Why are you holding up a knife to your arm?" He said in triumph.

I laughed again. "Ha. I win." Then I rose up on my tiptoes, leaned over and whispered in his ear. "I'm rebelling."

Evan looked lost. "Augh. Never mind." I said, annoyed, sitting down at the tree again. Basically, there was nothing he could do to me, being weaponless, and I wasn't afraid even if he did try something. Emmett taught me everything. "Just go."

Evan stubbornly sat beside me. "No." He said smoothly. Gosh, did he know I could kill him or what? Grinning evilly, I grabbed the mace out of my backpack and swung it dangerously towards him. He didn't even flinch. "I know you wouldn't kill me." He said confidently. This just made me mad. "Don't. Provoke. Me." I said in a low and dangerous voice. Evan still didn't look worried. What was wrong with this kid? "I'm not scared of you, Ebony."

He knew my name. My heart fluttered, but just as quickly it stopped. He knew everyone's name, stupid me. "Why not?" I asked. Evan touched my hand, and out of instinct I yanked it back. "You wouldn't kill me. You can't. No offence, Ebony, but I don't think you could kill without a reason. I've been watching you." He said very, very quietly. Gently I set the mace down. I couldn't really think of anything to say, except for the truth. "Yeah, I guess you're right." I said, looking at the knife in my hand.

I still _was _going to do it.

"Evan, do you want to ally with me?" I found myself saying. What the heck? Did I just actually say that out loud? Oh, gosh. . . Evan grinned somewhat like a sun. "I was hoping you'd ask." He said happily.

Evan looked thrilled when I scooted next to him closely to tell him my plan. He dropped his head. I whispered my idea into his ear. Evan's mouth dropped. "Y-you can't do that!" He said anxiously. I shrugged. "But I can. And I will." I muttered. "At least let me do it." Evan desperately offered. I could have laughed there also, but I couldn't. "Dude, you'd end up killing me." Evan shook his head. "Ebony, I'm a healer. Back in my district, that's like, what I did." He murmured.

Oh well. What did I have to lose, besides my life? I reluctantly handed him my knife. Then I actually realized what a chance he was taking for me. He could have just walked away, had nothing to do with me, but instead he offered to do it himself. "They're going to make your life miserable." I warned him softly. Evan shrugged. "I know. But that's a chance I'm willing to take."

Again, what was wrong with this kid? He was seriously messed up. .

Taking hold of my arm with cool fingers, Evan expertly traced the approximate place where the tracker was. At once I could instantly see that he knew what he was doing. If it were me, I'd jab the knife into myself and just go digging around till I found it. Evan jabbed the tip of the knife into my skin, but not very deep. "I can feel it." He whispered. "Ready?" He asked me, raising his eyebrows. I sighed. "As ready as I'll ever be." I replied.

Evan looked up into my eyes, then back down. "Don't worry. It'll only hurt a lot."


End file.
